


Worth It

by EpicCurves



Series: Bad Wolf [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sarah Jane Adventures, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpicCurves/pseuds/EpicCurves
Summary: She wonders, sometimes, if she’s going mad. Repeating the same things over and over again, never making any progress. Follow the Doctor, clean up a mess, leave a message, run. Rose is no longer in control. Bad Wolf decides where they go, Bad Wolf takes over when things take a turn for the worse, Bad Wolf paints herself across the galaxy, baring their soul for everyone to see on the slim chance the Doctor might notice.Rose forgets, sometimes, that she’s still human, at the root of it all.
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Series: Bad Wolf [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/61222
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It broke my heart to write this. I hope it breaks your heart to read it.

Some days, Rose doubts. Some days, she feels like giving up. She’s been searching for so long. She’s alone, always so alone. Always one step behind him, drifting in his wake, feeling the aftershocks of his passing, or one step ahead, trying so hard to leave him a sign, let him know she’s here, but always missing him. Never close enough to touch.

She wants to scream at him sometimes. Grab him by the shoulders and just shake him until he finally gets with the program. She’s back, she’s home, she’s looking for him! Why won’t he just _see?_

She meets him once, for only a moment, but it isn’t her Doctor. He doesn’t know her yet. There’s no recognition in his eyes as they pass over her face in the crowd. She recognizes him, though. Bad Wolf always knows the Doctor, even in that ridiculous scarf. He breezes by in a whirl of activity, not even pausing to shake her hand. He’s gone before she has time to realize what’s just happened, to try to reach out and latch on to him despite the fact that he isn’t hers. Her heart breaks as he walks away, and in that moment, she despairs that she may never find her Doctor again.

She tries making friends sometimes, along the way, but she’s so used to losing them by now. She always outlives them. She wonders how the Doctor does it, how he can bear to travel with companions when he knows he’ll only lose them in the end. She helps where she can, though, tries to leave things just a little bit better each time she passes through. She stays in contact with a few, the ones Bad Wolf touches.

She worries the most about Stiles. He was the first person she met when she returned to this universe, and, she thinks, the one most affected by the encounter with Bad Wolf. She doesn’t know what Bad Wolf did to him. Bad Wolf has some issues with letting go, with letting people she likes die. She’s called him, left him messages, to let him know she’s alright, as promised, but he never answers. Never responds.

She’s been back in this universe for centuries now, drifting through time, letting Bad Wolf decide where to take her. Chasing the Doctor in a seemingly endless hunt.

She wonders, sometimes, if she’s going mad. Repeating the same things over and over again, never making any progress. Follow the Doctor, clean up a mess, leave a message, run. Rose is no longer in control. Bad Wolf decides where they go, Bad Wolf takes over when things take a turn for the worse, Bad Wolf paints herself across the galaxy, baring their soul for everyone to see on the slim chance the Doctor might notice.

She’s so lost. Lost in space and time, lost in her own mind. Her very existence overshadowed and overpowered by an infinity of Bad Wolf. She knows Bad Wolf tries to stay at least somewhat contained. It killed her, last time, burned her alive from the inside out, or would have if the Doctor hadn’t been there. But there’s just so much. All of time and space, singing through her mind. Everyone and everything, all that is and was and will be.

Rose forgets, sometimes, that she’s still human, at the root of it all.


	2. Chapter 2

One day, she finds herself sitting in a grassy meadow facing a familiar city. Bad Wolf was apparently feeling nostalgic today, took her to New Earth, to New New York. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be doing here. Nothing is happening right now. The skies are clear and bright blue, the applegrass lush and fragrant. The city looks at peace, full of life and joy. No cries for help, no subversive calls into the shadows, certainly no one needing Bad Wolf.

Is she just here to wallow in her heartbreak, then?

She strolls into the city, visits the hospital, half-expecting the Face of Boe to be there, even though he has no reason to be. They’ve put a shop in the lobby. The Doctor would be pleased to see that. She doesn’t know any of the patients, has no real purpose here, so she moves on.

She spends a little while exploring the streets, people-watching, appreciating the architecture and the industry. When she gets hungry, she buys chips from one of the street vendors and heads back to her applegrass field.

The picnic isn’t the same alone. She misses her Doctor, misses him with every fiber of her being. Misses the TARDIS resting, constant and reliable, a few feet away. Misses the adventure, the wonder, of seeing everything for the first time. She’s lost that, somehow, along the way. Somewhere along the way, the extraordinary became routine, the remarkable became mundane.

She misses the running. There’s not as much call for it now, on her own.

Her eyes sting with long-contained tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She doesn’t know how much longer she can take this.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. A text message, from Stiles. The surprise of hearing from him now, after him ignoring her for so long, especially having him initiate the contact… she doesn’t know what to feel. Relief, worry, joy, frustration, anticipation. It’s too much, and not enough. The tears fall silently as she opens the message.

_Tell me it was worth it._ it says.

She frowns down at the message in confusion. _What was?_

_Traveling with the Doctor. Everything you’ve been through with him, for him, because of him._

She thinks about it. All the pain, all the loss, all those years alone and drifting aimlessly. She thinks of her parents, Tony, Mickey, Jack Harkness, everyone she’s loved, everyone she’s had to leave behind for him. She thinks of the Metacrisis, her John Smith, who she was supposed to be with for the rest of their lives. She thinks about the Daleks, the Cybermen, all the enemies she’s made in her travels.

Then she looks around, drinks in the smell of applegrass, the sky and the city and the wonders of human life. She thinks of all the lives she’s saved, all the ones she’s tried to make better. She thinks back on all those small moments with the Doctor, sharing chips, holding hands and running, laughing at the universe, happy and invincible. And really, there’s only one possible answer. _Yes. Of course. Every second of it._

_Thanks._

She wonders what brought this up, wonders if she should be worried for him. Or rather, worried more than usual. She’s just so relieved, though, so glad to finally be hearing something from him. _Good to hear from you. Good to know you’re okay._

_Let’s not jump to conclusions._

_What do you mean?_ she sends, but gets no response. She stares down at the phone for a few minutes, just waiting, but gets nothing. _Stiles?_

He still doesn’t respond. She tries calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised. Worried, certainly, but not surprised. Maybe she’ll visit him later, see for herself what’s going on with him.

It helped, though, even that brief contact. He may never know, but he might have given her exactly what she needed to go on. He gave her hope, reminded her why she’s been doing this in the first place.

She grins up at the sky, letting loose a joyful laugh. She’s human, she remembers now. There is so much wonder in this universe, and she can’t wait to see it all. Bad Wolf stirs in her mind, sings her a song of adventure and love. _Ready to run again, Rose Tyler?_

_Always._ She activates her vortex manipulator, and together, she and Bad Wolf run through the universe together, spreading their song across the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

She hears a rumor about something happening on Gallifrey, long before the Doctor’s time. Long before the Time Lords. They’re building something, a weapon. The most powerful weapon in all the universe, they say. The Galaxy Eater.

Talking to the scientists building the device does nothing. They’re just doing their jobs, they have no power when it comes to making decisions. Talking to the politicians who commissioned the work is even more pointless. Because, well, politicians. Looks like she’ll have to take matters into her own hands.

She sneaks into the research facility that night. She doesn’t know exactly what Bad Wolf expects her to do, but then, maybe she doesn’t have to do anything. Bad Wolf will take care of it.

She approaches the weapon slowly, cautiously. Reaches a hand out to touch it--

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," a voice calls from the darkness behind her.

She whirls around, tries to find the source of the voice. Doesn't see anything. "Who's there?"

"The voice of reason," the darkness replies.

She looks back at the weapon. It looks so innocent, just sitting there. Just a box. Beautiful in its simplicity. "Reason's got nothing to do with this. Wasn't reason that made them build this. Just fear."

"True," the voice concedes. “What do you fear, then, Rose Tyler?”

She squints into the darkness. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything you need me to know,” the voice responds.

She hums thoughtfully. “You’re the interface, then. Are you just audio, or do you have visual capabilities as well?”

A figure steps out of the shadows. A handsome man, one she’s never seen before, but one she still feels she should know from somewhere. Short, wavy brown hair, cool blue eyes, artfully trimmed facial hair and a devilish smirk. Dressed simply in a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans.

He spreads his hands by his sides and gestures to himself casually. “Nice, isn’t it?” he asks, with all the nonchalant confidence that comes of someone who knows he’s hot.

She just shrugs, because she knows Jack Harkness, and this guy’s got nothing on him. “I’ve seen better.”

He gasps in feigned offense, clutching his hands over his heart. “Ouch, it’s almost like you don’t like me,” he snarks at her.

"How could I like something designed to destroy entire galaxies?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"But that's the beauty of it!" the interface exclaims, grin spreading to reveal a row of perfect white teeth. A shiver runs down Rose's spine at the sight of such glee at the concept of such destruction. "I'm not just some boring old bomb. Destruction isn't the end of the story. Don't you see? It's the _beginning_."

Rose gapes at him incredulously for a moment. "The murder of untold billions, the vaporization of entire solar systems-- How the hell is that the beginning of anything?"

He flaps a hand at her impatiently. "You're still thinking small scale. Don't you know the saying? Can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. No, hear me out," he says, holding out a hand to silence her when she starts to interrupt. "All this?" he continues, gesturing to the room around them, to the world and the universe in general. "This is already here. This is stagnant. Boring. Safe. But throw a little chaos into the mix, blow away a world here or there, and _that's_ when you get growth. Change! Creation! Room to expand, a chance to fill a void, a source of inspiration if ever there was one. See? I'm not just a bomb. I'm an _artist_."

"You are such a politician," Rose mutters, shaking her head.

"Woah, hey, no need to get insulting here," he says, cocking an eyebrow and pointing a warning finger at her. She just rolls her eyes at him, unimpressed. His eyes widen briefly, then narrow in suspicion. "You really aren't afraid of me," he observes, voice dangerously mild in a way that promises nothing but disaster.

"No," she agrees, "I'm really not." She faced down the Dalek emperor and turned him into dust. Next to him, this joker is nothing. Just a tool. No emotion, no passion, no drive, no independent thought. A box, nothing more. “What about you, then?” She cocks her head, narrows her eyes. "Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?"

His smirk turns deadly. “Oh, honey, don’t you see? I _am_ the big bad wolf.” His irises flash an even brighter blue and the teeth glinting out of his grin are a bit too long and sharp to be strictly human. Werewolf, then. Just the image of one, obviously, since it’s still just the interface, but using the visage of one of Stiles’ werewolves. She wonders which one.

She studies him coolly. She’s met monsters much scarier than him. She’s been such a monster, at times. "You are, though. You're afraid of me." She lets Bad Wolf shine through her eyes. "You should be."

The interface frowns in confusion. "I'm not. I'm just a machine. Machines don't feel fear."

"Hm. Maybe." She shrugs, uncaring, and takes a step toward the weapon itself. "Maybe you don't yet," she concedes, "but maybe you will." She extends her hand out over the box again, Bad Wolf singing through her, the air alight with power.

"I still don't think you should--" the interface starts, but cuts off with a gasp when Rose's hand lands on top of the weapon. The image wavers, flickers, fades a bit, then explodes in a burst of golden light.

Rose stands there, hand still on the box, until Bad Wolf's song fades away into her standard background hum. The silence in the room seems almost tangible for a moment, until something unidentifiable shifts, like a sigh of relief. Rose blinks back the last of Bad Wolf and looks around. "Hello?" she calls into the darkness, wondering if another interface will show up, wondering what, exactly, Bad Wolf did this time.

"Sorry about Peter," a voice says from behind her. She startles and whips around. She knows that voice, but it can't possibly be... "He's a pompous dick at the best of times," he continues with an apologetic shrug and wry half-smile, "and at the worst... Well. A psychotic, murderous dick."

"Stiles," Rose breathes. "Why-- What are you-- How did you--" She stumbles over her words, unable to understand what, exactly, is happening.

"Ah, technically, I'm not," he says, crinkling his nose and pulling one hand out of his pocket to scratch behind his neck. "Um. Not actually me, I mean. I'm, uh--" he flails the hand expressively at the box on the table between them.

Rose slumps in disappointment. "Oh. Just the new interface."

He nods. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Are you-- Is he alright, though? The real Stiles, I mean. Do you know?" She needs to ask. Needs to know.

"Al-- are you _fucking kidding me?_ Of _course_ he's not alright! After what you--" He cuts off abruptly as he takes in the horrified, bewildered expression on her face. "You don't know, do you?" he asks, voice soft, hesitant. "You don't know what you did to him. What Bad Wolf turned him into."

"Tell me," she demands in a whisper. If she really did something awful to him, she needs to know so she can try to fix it.

He shakes his head emphatically and starts mumbling, almost to himself. "Stupid wibbly-wobbly timelines, giving me a friggin' monstrous headache, I swear to god." He rubs his temples and sighs, then looks back up at her. "Sorry. Spoke too soon, apparently. You'll just have to find out for yourself."

"Whatever it is, I can fix it. I will, I have to. I owe it to him." It'd help if she knew what she'd done, but maybe that's not actually important, as long as she can get Bad Wolf to undo it.

He shrugs. "I guess you can, sure," he concedes with a frown. "You can go to him, fix what you did. You'll find your Doctor, too, if you do that. Live happily ever after." Which sounds decidedly wonderful to her, and she opens her mouth to say as much, but he keeps going. "If you do, though, he'll die."

Her jaw goes slack for a moment as she processes that, then her brow knits together in confusion. "He'll die? Stiles will die. If I go to him, cure him of whatever hell he's been living through because of me, find my Doctor and live happily ever after, Stiles will die?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, without Bad Wolf... Uh. That's what you'll have to do, you know. When you find the Doctor, if you want to live, you'll have to lose Bad Wolf." He fidgets uneasily with the strings on his hoodie for a moment, ever the ball of panicky energy. "Or you can leave him as he is now, as you made him," he offers with another shrug. "He'll learn to deal with it eventually. He'll be fine. Better than fine. His own wolf will find him, and they'll live happily ever after. But you won't."

"Well, then who cares if _I'm_ happy?" She asks. "I certainly have enough practice with the opposite. As long as he--"

"No-- Rose," he interrupts, "you won't be unhappy. You'll be dead."

She pauses to let that sink in for a moment, then smiles wryly, resigned. "Would that really be such a bad thing?"

The interface sighs, shoulders slumping. "That's what you have to decide. But, just--" He takes half a step toward her, reaching out as if to grab her hand, but stops himself just shy of contact. "Don't-- don't decide all at once. There are consequences, to everything." His hand drops back to his side, and he fidgets with the hem of his hoodie. "And always more factors to consider. There's never only one option."

She studies this new interface, and has to remind herself again that it isn't Stiles. It mimics him so perfectly. The way he moves, his voice, that face. He appears a bit older than the Stiles she remembers, with some scars she didn't notice last time they met, but he speaks with the same wisdom-caked-in-acerbic-wit she grew so fond of in their brief encounter. "You know," she observes, "I don't think Galaxy Eater is really the right name for you anymore."

He huffs a laugh. "No, I suppose not. Not that I can't still do that, mind you," he cautions, "but what Bad Wolf gave me…"

"Can you tell me?" Rose asks when he trails off. She doesn't often get insight into what her alter ego does with their power. She hopes it's nothing bad this time.

"You gave me the same thing you gave the Doctor," he says, smiling fondly. "The same thing you offer everyone you meet. Hope. A conscience." He locks eyes with her, intent on being heard and understood. "And love."

She doesn't know how to respond to that, but she thinks she might cry in gratitude. "Can I hug you?" she asks quietly. He's the next best thing to the real Stiles, after all.

He shakes his head. "I'm not actually physically here," he explains. "But don't worry. You'll find him again. You'll see both of them again, eventually. You'll have your moment."

"And you?"

He grins. "I'll have my moment, too. But for now, you'd better get going. My creators aren't going to be all that pleased when they find out what you've done." She rolls her eyes at that. If she cared about pleasing this device's creators, she'd never have come. "And besides, you have so much more to do out there."

"Thank you," she whispers, and brings her wrist up to set her vortex manipulator for her next adventure, only to find it already set.

"Run, now, Rose Tyler," the interface says, and vanishes in a haze of golden glitter. The room is empty now, apart from the device, and herself. Nothing is holding her here. She activates the device on her wrist, and waits for her moment to come.


	4. Chapter 4

She wasn't able to save them, this time. Bad Wolf was-- she doesn't even know. Hibernating? Multitasking? Gone fishing? She doesn't even _know_ anymore. They haven't been blending as easily lately. She loses track, loses time.

Something within her is broken. She's fractured down to her very soul. She doesn't know how to fix it.

Six people died today, because Rose Tyler is powerless and Bad Wolf was AWOL.

She stands there in shock for several long hours, staring at the corpses. A family. Children, parents, an aunt. They just wanted to find a new home, wanted to get a fresh start. The youngest wanted to be a dancer. All dead now because she wasn't enough.

She thinks she should feel it more. Feel their loss. But all she can manage to feel is her own failure.

She's not good enough, not strong enough, not smart enough. Just not enough.

She's nothing.

Why is she here, then? Why does she bother? If all she's going to do is fail, why even try?

She hates Bad Wolf. Hates herself. Wishes Bad Wolf would just let her die.

Her phone buzzes.

Of course it does.

Of course it's Stiles.

It's been months, at least, since his last text. She thinks it's been months, maybe years. Maybe longer. At least on her end. Always hard to tell when you're a time traveler.

_Met the Doctor._ Her heartbeat picks up. She'd forgotten it could do that, it's been so long. _Not your Doctor yet. Sent him to find you._

She's gasping for breath, her legs aren't working, she's fallen to her knees. It feels like her heart is going to explode. Her vision blurs, sounds aren't coming in right. Muffled and sharp and distorted and too bright, too loud, all at once. Her hands are numb, stiff when she tries to move them. Her face is numb. She thinks she's crying.

She cries until she's laughing. Sobbing, breathless, hysterical. Must be quite a sight. Lonely, lost little girl, collapsed in a blubbering heap surrounded by dead children. Only human, after all.

Human. Even with Bad Wolf corrupting her, changing her, enhancing her, she's still only human. Just Rose Tyler, nothing more. She isn't perfect, doesn't have to be. Can't save everyone, though she'll try.

She looks around, cries again. Gets it this time. Mourns the loss.

Eventually, she remembers how to breathe. Oxygen and carbon dioxide. A simple chemical reaction, so essential to being alive. In, out.

She can do this. She's only human, but she can use that. She doesn't have to do everything, she just has to do something. She can, she will, she is.

Stiles reminded her. She should acknowledge that. _Thank you_ , she sends.

_You said it was worth it. I hope you're right._

She doesn't smile, but she thinks she might be able to again. Soon. _It was. It is. Thank you._

She can't leave them like this, can't leave the bodies here in the sun to rot. They deserve so much better. She closes her eyes. Bad Wolf is there. Right where she left her. Where she has been all along, if only she'd had strength enough to notice.

She builds a funeral pyre with her own two hands, lets Bad Wolf light it. Bad Wolf scatters the ashes, carries them through space where they can blend with the heart of a star, feed the soil on a new planet, hurtle through space on a comet. Fuel for the universe, creating new life down the road.

Bad Wolf creates a monument here, in their memory. Not a physical one. That wouldn't mean anything. The universe has too many meaningless things already. She leaves a feeling, instead. A memory of love, of family and hope for new beginnings. An urge to dance.

It's not enough, can never be enough, to replace what was lost. But it helps, maybe.

She scrubs away the tears, breathes again. She remembers how to do that now. Remembers how to be alive. She inhales on one planet and, with the press of a button, exhales on another.


	5. Chapter 5

She’s losing chunks of time, losing track of the ebb and flow of her own timeline. Tenses are hard. Bad Wolf tries so hard to stay contained, to keep from burning out, but she doesn’t always know her full strength.

Sometimes Rose is just herself, and Bad Wolf sleeps within. Sometimes they are one-- one mind, one body, moving together, spreading a song of love across the galaxy. Sometimes, though, Rose is lost and Bad Wolf takes over, a goddess of vengeance burning a war path through the stars.

She forgets things sometimes, forgets who she is, who she was. What she is. She forgets what she's doing, why she's here. Most dangerous of all is when she forgets who she's looking for. That's when she loses herself.

She always knows she's searching. She knows something vital is missing from her life, something she once had. She usually remembers how it felt to have him, and knows that's not how she feels now.

She often forgets which of the two of them is the lost one. Is she looking because she lost her way, or because he slipped from her grasp?

Usually when she forgets, she brings out her phone. The boy on the other end never answers, but at least he's consistent. The one constant in her life, when the Doctor can't be found.

She calls, listens to the tinny recording of his voice echoing across millennia. She never leaves a message, though she wonders what might happen if she did. Wonders where and when her call is reaching him. If he's alive when it does.

Visiting Sarah Jane was supposed to help Rose remember. Sarah Jane had said, when they’d met, that Rose should come see her, if she ever needed to. And Rose needed to, needed someone.

But Rose had barely been present, only waking at the end of her visit, after Bad Wolf had already destroyed everything.

She can never go back there now. Can't bear to face what she's done to those children. Turned them into killers. Turned them into mirrors of herself.

She never knew Bad Wolf could be so cruel.

She runs, both praying for and dreading the day she finds her Doctor. She needs him to fix her, but will he even want to? When he finds out what she's done, will he be as disgusted with her as she is with herself?


	6. Chapter 6

She's staring at a mark on a wall. Has been standing here, staring, for the past hour. She doesn't know what it means.

She thinks she used to know. Thinks she ought to know. The words are familiar, but they've lost their meaning. Like saying a word so many times it doesn't feel like a word any more, but worse, because this time she feels the loss like a part of her is gone.

Maybe that's what happened.

She frowns at the wall. Wants to ask someone. But walls don't talk, and none of the people walking past seem to notice or care.

She wants to ask what she's doing here. Wants to ask who she is. But she gets the feeling none of these people know any more than she does.

She was looking for something, she remembers that much. She thinks she was somewhere else before. Will go somewhere else again. She doesn't remember how.

Something in her pocket vibrates. She pulls it out to look. There are words on it. Always words.

_You ok?_

She doesn't know how to answer, but apparently her fingers do. _No_ , she types. She blinks down at the words, surprised at herself. She doesn't think she was supposed to answer honestly.

_Me neither._

Oh. Honesty was the correct response, then, even if she doesn't know how or why. She knows this person, though, the one speaking to her across time and space. He can fix her. He always does.

_I think I'm going mad_ , she confesses.

_Me too_ , he says.

She laughs. She can't help it. It isn't funny. Her laugh doesn't sound amused. Just broken, like her. _We make quite a pair, don't we?_

_Legendary_ , he reminds her.

Right. Because that's what they are, that's what she is. Living legends. She said so herself. _I'm sorry_ , she tells him. She doesn't know what she's apologizing for, just knows she needs to. Existing, maybe. Her greatest sin.

_It was worth it. Has to be._

He's right. Otherwise, why bother? Worth every second, or it was all for nothing. And that can't be true, can't be for nothing, because here she is. There he is. Alive. Human. Fantastic.

Apparently she's been silent too long. He texts again. _You'll find him. Your Doctor._

She remembers now, remembers everything. _I hope you're right._ He has to be right. She needs him to be right.

_I always am._

She grins. Feels right to be smiling at him, even if he can't see. _That's why I love you._

_I know_ , he replies. She laughs again, and this time it's genuine.

She casts one last look at the BAD WOLF graffiti on the wall. It means something again. Always will, as long as he's alive somewhere, somewhen. She's about to put her phone away when one last text comes in. _I love you too._

And that, that means more. Means everything. A whole universe full of life and adventure, all of time and space, but none of it means more than those words from that boy.

She carries that feeling with her when she goes.


	7. Chapter 7

It was the Daleks again. Always the Daleks. They should really know better by now.

She warned them. She tried, really she did. They just never listen.

But it wasn’t just the Daleks, this time. It was all of them. _Everyone_. Everyone she’d been trying so hard to protect. Bad Wolf turned them all to dust.

Rose just-- doesn’t know what to do. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t understand.

Bad Wolf is out of control. That’s all there is to it, really. But with Bad Wolf… that’s not the sort of situation the universe should ever, _ever_ have to face. The fury of Bad Wolf, unrestrained.

Rose is a weapon, now, without the Doctor. More powerful than that Moment device, or whatever it called itself now. Because at least that now had a conscience, whereas Bad Wolf, under the right circumstances, with her Doctor gone and the threat great enough, with Rose's humanity all but lost, was nothing but pure divine wrath.

She remembers… She thinks she remembers, there was a time, once, so long ago. She wasn’t always like this. The first time she met a Dalek, she gave it humanity. She saw the Doctor, turning into-- and all she had to do was ask him what, and he stopped. For one terrifying moment, he was no better than a Dalek, but all she had to do was ask. _What the hell are you changing into?_

How could she dare see him now? The Doctor is good, and merciful, and forgiving. But Bad Wolf now, Bad Wolf is a horror beyond all imagining. She is not worthy of his love. He deserves so much better.

He deserves Rose Tyler, Defender of Earth, the young woman who could remind him of the beauty and wonder of the universe, who could heal some of his hurt from all he lost in the Time War. He deserves the girl who could teach the Metacrisis what it means to be human. Not this monstrous creature she's become in his absence.

She cries her agony into the stars, warning all who might cross her path. Beware the Wolf, for there is no escape once she has your scent. Run while you can, run forever, for the Bad Wolf is on the hunt. Be afraid of the Big Bad Wolf. Be very afraid.

She looks again at the devastation and destruction around her. She knows she can't just be left to her own devices any more. She needs someone. Someone good, someone who can teach her to be human again. Someone who can bring Rose Tyler back.

This... This must be why the Doctor travels with a companion. What would he become without one? Would he be a weapon like her? She hopes the universe never has to find out.

Her body is failing her. She can feel it as Bad Wolf burns within. She's been too brazen with her power, letting Bad Wolf run free for too long. It's too much for her body to handle. She's dying, she knows. It started in her mind. All the forgetting, the blackouts, losing track of time. Bad Wolf is too much for her to handle. Always has been.

She runs a shaking hand through her dry hair, catching on tangles. A flicker of light from her other hand catches her eye. Brings both hands down to stare at them. Bad Wolf is stuttering out, fighting to keep her whole but not understanding that she's the cause of the decay. Maybe if she could be contained again... But it might be too late for that anyway.

She flicks her tongue out to lick cracked lips as she considers her options. It's hard to think through the haze of pain in her head. Maybe someone can help her. Someone who knows both her and Bad Wolf. Someone Bad Wolf has touched, to remind her what good they can do. Someone near a time rift, where Bad Wolf might be able to rest and recharge, where the Doctor might stop in to refuel the TARDIS. Someone who has reminded her, in the past, of how to be human again.

She sets the coordinates on the vortex manipulator and hopes, with all she has left, that she arrives in time to be saved, and that she doesn't destroy him in the process.


End file.
